Fingers and chocolate

He watched her dip two fingers into the bowl of melted chocolate like it was holy.

The thick, glossy syrup clung to her skin, dripping in slow, lazy trails down the inside of her wrist, over the delicate bones of her hand.

She didn’t lick it immediately.

No. She simply watched him—waiting, savoring, controlling the moment like she controlled the air between them.

He sat frozen on the bed, cock hard and aching, muscles tense with restraint.

Already hers, even without a single word.

Finally, Aleksandra lifted one chocolate-covered finger to her mouth.

Her tongue peeked out—deliberate, slow—and she licked it from the base to the tip, swirling it with obscene care before pulling it between her lips.

He heard himself groan, low and helpless.

Then she took the second finger into her mouth, sucking it deeper, moaning around it like it was his cock she was tasting.

When she pulled her finger free with a wet pop, she smiled.

"Do you know why I love chocolate?" she asked, voice thick and honeyed.

He shook his head, too wrecked to form words.

She leaned closer, her breath molten against his ear.

"Because it melts on the tongue like secrets..."Her hand dragged down his chest, nails grazing just enough to make him gasp."...and I always have one."

He tried to lean in—desperate to taste her mouth, her skin, the lingering chocolate.

But she pulled back with a wicked smile, just out of reach.

"Not yet," she whispered, the words sliding between them like silk." You haven't earned dessert."

She turned back to the bowl, dipping her fingers again, this time deeper, coating them in a thick, sticky layer of chocolate.

Slowly, methodically, Aleksandra painted herself.

First, a trail across her collarbone.

Then down the center of her chest, between her perfect breasts.

Lower still—across the soft swell of her stomach, dipping into the sensitive hollow of her navel.

He watched, breathing hard, cock throbbing.

She turned to him, one brow raised.

"Strip," she commanded softly.

He obeyed instantly, shedding the last clinging pieces of clothing until he was completely, shamefully bare.

"On your knees," she added.

He dropped to the floor at the foot of the bed, panting.

"Look at you," she murmured, dipping two fingers back into the chocolate and dragging it down the slope of one breast, circling her nipple until it hardened under the sticky heat."

So needy. So easy to ruin."

He whimpered.

"Hands behind your back," she said.

He obeyed, fisting his hands behind him as his cock bobbed helplessly with each breath.

She approached him slowly, a goddess in human skin, her body a map of chocolate and power.

"Only mouth," she reminded him.

"Nothing else."

She offered him her breast first—coated in chocolate, the nipple glistening, begging.

He leaned in, tongue trembling, and licked a slow, reverent line across the curve of her breast.

She moaned softly—a reward.

Encouraged, he sucked the sticky nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, licking and kissing and devouring until her hand tightened in his hair, holding him there.

"Good boy," she whispered.

His cock twitched violently at the praise.

She moved next, smearing a fresh line of chocolate across her ribs, her belly, her hips.

Every time he licked her clean, she guided him lower with a gentle tug in his hair—controlling every inch he earned, every taste he was allowed.

Finally, she dipped her fingers again, this time dragging a glossy trail between her thighs—across her inner thighs first, teasing, taunting.

Then higher—over her pussy lips, coating them in a sticky, glistening mess.

He nearly sobbed with need.

Aleksandra sat on the edge of the bed, spread her legs slowly, leaned back on her hands, and smirked.

"You may taste."

He fell into her like a starving man.

His tongue lapped up the chocolate coating her pussy lips first—long, slow drags that left her skin glistening wet and flushed.

He circled her clit in slow, maddening strokes, teasing until she was panting above him.

But every time he tried to plunge deeper, she would tug his hair sharply and say, "Slower."

She wanted to feel him break.

Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. He didn't know anymore.

He worshipped her pussy with his mouth, licking and kissing every inch of her, trembling with need, cock leaking against his thigh.

Aleksandra arched her hips forward, grinding her sticky cunt against his mouth.

"Make me cum," she growled, voice rough with need.

"Use that greedy tongue."

He moaned into her, sucking her clit harder, flicking his tongue faster, swirling it until her thighs trembled and her moans rose higher.

"Don't stop," she gasped.

And he didn't.

He licked her through it—through her orgasm, through the aftershocks that left her shaking against him.

Only when she was satisfied, spent, collapsed against the bed did she finally release his hair and pull him up to face her.

Her hands were shaking slightly—only slightly—as she pushed him onto his back.

"Now," she said, voice wrecked and gorgeous, "you get your reward."

She climbed over him, straddling his hips, her chocolate-slick body sliding against his until he thought he might come just from the friction.

She reached between them, gripped his cock, smeared the head with the chocolate still clinging to her thighs.

He nearly came from that alone.

"Beg," she whispered.

"Please," he gasped.

"Please, Aleksandra. Please let me—"

She sank onto him slowly, inch by agonizing inch, taking him deep, deeper, until he was fully buried inside her slick, molten heat.

Both of them groaned—broken, desperate.

She rode him slowly at first—grinding in tight, controlled circles that made his toes curl.

He reached for her hips instinctively.

She slapped his hand away, smirking.

"No hands," she reminded him again.

He whimpered.

Aleksandra leaned back, bracing herself on his thighs, riding him harder now—faster, the wet sounds of their bodies slapping together filling the room, mixing with their gasps and curses.

Every time he got close, she would slow down.

Tease him.

Make him beg again.

When she finally allowed it—allowed him to thrust up into her, to lose control completely—it was a glorious, devastating thing.

They both came together—violent, wet, unstoppable.

She screamed his name, nails digging into his chest as her pussy clenched and milked his cock.

He roared beneath her, spilling inside her, hips jerking, overwhelmed by the tight, wet grip of her orgasm around him.

They collapsed together in a tangled, sticky, gasping heap.

For a long time, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing.

The chocolate cooling on their skin.

The soft hum of the air conditioner.

Finally, Aleksandra rolled off him, laughing breathlessly, wiping chocolate from her breasts with two fingers and sucking them clean.

"You did good," she murmured, kissing his shoulder.

He could only nod, still trembling from how thoroughly she'd ruined him.

"And," she added with a wicked grin, "there’s still more chocolate left."

He groaned, burying his face in her neck.

He was ruined.

And he would beg for it again tomorrow.

Are you ready to play?

I AM READY